


Son of a Bitch - Everything's Real

by MoonFire1



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Addiction, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, I reject your canon and substitute my own, M/M, Recovery, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonFire1/pseuds/MoonFire1
Summary: You’re not okay, but you will be.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Son of a Bitch - Everything's Real

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom explores Richie's alcoholism readily. I haven't seen the same thing done for Eddie's pill addiction. YOLO.

“I never thought I took things because I was addicted.” Eddie twisted the fingers of his hands together, nervous. “I thought – I had been told – I had the problems the meds were intended to fix.”

_Give it time. The shakes are psychosomatic at this point. They will stop. Nothing is wrong with your heart. You aren’t allergic to anything. You’ve done the tests. Your friends helped you clean out your cabinets. The man you love is sitting next to you. You’re not okay, but you will be._

_\---_

Had anyone surveyed the adult Losers, most would have bet on Richie to be the one that developed an addiction problem. A safe bet, all things considered. He had the rehab stints as receipts, and the whole vomit-onstage-and-forget-his-own-name episode gave precisely no one confidence in his character.

In the last year, however, that trajectory to an early death had changed. Newly sober, out, and becoming true to himself had given Richie the emotional stability and personal validation he had sought his entire life.

People probably should have looked twice at Eddie, but honestly, where were the signs? He had only been warped by his mother – doubly so once they had moved out of Derry – and had found the perfect enabler/abuser in his terminated marriage to Myra. Recovering from demonic clown induced injuries necessitated anxiety medications, pain killers, and enforced absences from work for therapies of various sorts.

\---

He had been fine – he had managed everything – until the one day when he no longer could.

Richie still didn’t like talking about what he had seen that day.

Another ambulance ride, another hospitalization, and this time, someone sitting by his bedside, head in hands, weeping as though his heart were breaking.

_Ican’tdothispleaseGodnotlikethisIjustgothimbackthingsweregettingbetterplease_

Over and over, the same words flowed together. It took a long time for Eddie to come back to himself, to actually be cognizant to what had happened. One pill was all that it took. One pill too many, and his breathing had collapsed. Another pill would have seen him dead.

“We survived the fucking clown” Richie whispered against his skin like a secret. “I’m not losing you to – to _THIS_.”

\---

Eddie had to be the one to ultimately accept he had a problem. “Much as I want to, I can’t love you into sobriety.” More secrets whispered against Eddie’s throat. “You have to do it first.”

Eddie accepted the hospital's detox program, the literature, and the gentle lectures from his doctor. Honestly, he would have felt better had someone yelled at him.

“Yelling never worked on me and I know it won’t work on you,” Richie replied the one time he spoke the thought out loud.

It was true. Yelling would have been familiar and allowed old self-loathing to triumph. Compassion, unconditional love, and gentle kicks in the ass, on the other hand, were much harder to accept.

\---

“You don’t have to go in.” Richie’s voice was gentle, non-judgmental.

“I know.” Eddie took a deep breath. “But I need to.”

He opened the door to the community center himself, but felt comforted when Richie followed him into the meeting room.

Handshakes from strangers and offers of coffee were welcome – familiar, from times he had gone with Richie to celebrate his milestones. He took a seat in the circle of chairs, and reminded himself to breathe.

 _This is a good place. This is a safe place. No one will judge me here_.

\---

“I guess it doesn’t matter how I got here,” Eddie finished almost with a laugh. “I’m Eddie – and I’m an addict.”

The meeting ended with hugs from those who were no longer strangers, and Richie’s hand squeezing the back of his neck in comfort.

It wasn’t the first day of the rest of his life.

It definitely wasn’t the easiest day.

But at least it was somewhere for him to start.

//end//


End file.
